Radio Song
by atalanta's apples
Summary: chapter four- after drinking too much, Portman stumbles into Adam's room and betrays him. Confessions and confusion as Charlie and Adam delve into mysteries about themselves and each other -slash-
1. Open Book

_Disclaimer_: All things Mighty Ducks related belongs to Disney. 

_Author's Notes_: this is my first MD story but obviously not my first in fan fiction; I've been around awhile with LOTR and HP but recently got into Adam/Charlie and thought I was the only psycho in the world who thought they'd be extremely hot together.  Since then, I've found out that I'm not (thank god!) and thought to try my own on this new obsession of mine.

Also there may be a lot of factual errors (it's been ages since I've watched the movies) so I hope you all won't mind and that you all will enjoy this~

**~*Radio Song*~**

**~*Chapter One*~**

Is it just me or does it seem like everyone is falling apart?  I don't mean just how Averman's been sick with the flu for almost three weeks now or how Fulton and Portman are basically flunking every class.  I mean there's none of this "ducks fly together" togetherness.  Basically everyone's been doing their own thing and without hockey to tie us all together we get to see what we're really like.  Sure there's still some people that hang like Connie and Guy, whatever is up with them, and some other people but I don't know.  I just don't feel it; maybe it's just me. 

With me I've just been sinking deeper and deeper into all this work with studying and homework.  I barely have time to sleep and definitely no time to hang out with the Ducks.  Except Charlie.  Thank god for Charlie, he's keeping me sane and keeping me alive.  He stays awake until I finish my papers and he makes sure I have some time to chill, without him I'd probably go crazy or die or both.  Thank god for Charlie, I hope he never goes away. 

Adam stopped his continual writing and looked at what he had written with a slight frown on his face.  Was it just him or did that sound decidedly gay?  He flushed slightly and nearly crossed it out but then remembered the pact he had made with himself when he had started writing in journals in the first place, that he would write absolutely everything down even if it meant cringing when looking back.  If he didn't say it here then he might say it in a potentially more dangerous situation.  

Hearing the doorknob turn, he slammed the small book shut and stuck it under his pillow, not the most discreet place to hide something so intimate but it'd have to do.  As if his thoughts had materialized from the paper, Charlie walked through the door, obviously back from running with his hair still wet from the shower hanging in his face.  Charlie was the kind that always had to be outside, always had to be in motion.  It was Adam that eventually had to keep him from burning out completely.  

"You should have come," was what Adam was greeted with. 

"How?  With all this work to do?"  He gestured to the whirring laptop and stacks of papers and books scattered across his bed.  Charlie shrugged and grinned and fell onto his own unmade bed.

"Come on, the paper's not even due until Friday and the rest of that stuff?  You don't _have_ to read all of it, it's all BS and bullshitting is an art that you have yet to learn." 

Adam looked up at Charlie's grinning face.  How did Charlie slide by so easily when he was supposed to be the smart one? 

"What?" he finally said.  He closed his laptop. 

"I mean just pick a page and say something meaningful about it."  Adam laid back too on the bed, feeling the hard book underneath his pillow.  

"Yeah well it's a little easier to say it than to do it."  

"Come on, it's Saturday and your best friend is bored."  Adam tried to keep nonchalant as he picked up a book and studied the cover intently.  He thought for sure of Charlie as his best friend but it was another thing to have Charlie say it too.  He felt pleased but was determined not to show it. 

"Don't you have to go home on the weekends?" Adam finally said.  A cloud fell over Charlie's face.  He was so easy to read, like an open book, unlike Adam who was always wearing his façade.  

"I don't think this week will be a good time to go back," he said.  Adam didn't want to press but the best friend comment was still fresh in his memory.

"Is everyone okay?"  The other boy's face crumbled even more. 

"You know how my mom is.  I just don't see how she can't see that each guy treats her even more like crap than the last one."  

Adam couldn't help marveling at how different they were.  Charlie didn't have a problem with trusting people, with talking to them, and most definitely didn't have a problem with asking for help.  He would always be open and loving and kind and be surrounded by people that love him.  And Adam…well he'd be lucky if he were still invited to family reunions.  Often called cold hearted, Adam wondered if he were.  

"Have you told your mom how you feel?"  If someone offered that advice to him, he would have told them to get lost, but he knew how close Charlie and his mom were so maybe this would work.

"I try but the only time she's happy is if she's got a _man_ in her life."  He says the word as if it hurts his mouth.  They lapsed into silence when Charlie, with a determined look of happiness in his eyes, says, "Okay, let's not get all depressed and teenage angst on a Saturday.  Maybe Tuesday, but definitely not Saturday."  

Adam feigned laughing. 

"Alright, fine, I'll do homework tonight."  Charlie nearly bounces on his bed with happiness like a dog as he waits for Adam to get dressed.

"On second thought, let me shower quick, okay?"  

"You're such a girl Banksie."  

"Yeah well I don't like smelling gross."  Not much of a comeback but it was true.  Adam grabbed a clean towel and headed out the door and was out the door.

~*~

Charlie's POV 

I watch my friend walk out the door, looking tired in sweats and a shirt, feeling only slightly guilty for dragging him out when he's looking so beat up.  Or maybe that's just Adam, he always looks a little tired. 

Sometimes, when I can't sleep or when I'm feeling especially low, I can't help wondering, fantasizing maybe, what it'd be like to be Adam.  I know he's not that much different from us; money doesn't always equal happiness and especially some family attention.  What my mom and I have, or used to have anyway, was beyond what Adam would ever have with his parents and I knew that.  

But still, there was something extremely appealing about being Adam, just for a day, just for a moment, to be the one with those blue eyes curtained to the outside world.  I wanted to be the one with all those emotions and thoughts inside my head, not letting anyone know.  I wanted to explore them all, one by one.  

He was, in short, perfection, always a step away from everyone else.  I thought rooming with him and being friends with him would make him more human.  Maybe it has.  But maybe it's put him even further from me.  It's just frustrating that I never know what he's thinking; sometimes I feel like I don't even know him at all.  

As if my thoughts have suddenly solidified, there, peeking out from underneath his pillow, was the corner of what appeared to be a black book.  What was so special about that book that it had to be kept hidden?  I couldn't help walking to Adam's bed and picking it up, knowing what it would be even before my fingers made contact with the cool cover of the book.

It occurred to me that Adam, if I were him and he were me, would just put the book back underneath the pillow.  He would never even consider opening the book.  Opening the book and reading the last entry, just for a little bit.  

But I wasn't Adam.  Even with the guilt already pressing down on me, I opened the book and flipped through the worn pages, full of Adam's neat handwriting.  I caught snatches of sentences from each page.  There was the announcement that we had won the Varsity-JV game, there was another about hating all the schoolwork, and then there was another one, the latest one.

Adam was even sharper than everyone gave him credit for.  Sure he was our team's genius on top of being the hockey star but he knew to empathize and he knew what to look for in people.  And he showed me, through his writing, that I wasn't the only one who thought that the Ducks were falling apart.  I was just hoping that when hockey season starts off again, we would reform and be ready to work together again.  

I can hear footsteps approaching the door and I drop the book before finishing up the entry.  The last line I read is _Maybe it's just me_.  I shove the book back under the pillow and suddenly realize that I had just read my best friend's journal.  

When Adam walks back in, his eyes unconsciously flick to his pillow and my guilt deepens.  But when he smiles, it's forgotten.  

"What you want to do?" he says.  His hair is wet and he doesn't bother to gel it.  He smells clean and nice, nothing like the perfumed, cloying, sickly sweet scents that girls seem to bathe in.  He's just simply Adam and nothing else.  

"Whatever you want."

~*~

Adam's POV 

Charlie doesn't know how deep I'm in.  With all this work to do the last thing I needed was a Saturday wasted.  Well, not wasted, nothing with Charlie is wasted.  But now I don't know how to handle all this work.  I was never good with stress, I stress too easily and worry about everything.  

I dream of dying and it makes me wonder why I'm even here.  The worst part is that I have nothing to be worried over.  Just everything seems to be falling apart around me and so am I.  I feel guilty that I can't handle a little bit of stress while Charlie is able to keep his life running smoothly as well as trying to help his dysfunctional mom.  

I can't sleep; my eyes feel like heavy marbles in my head.  I feel so far apart.  I want to be me again but I can't.  I don't feel anything anymore.  Maybe everyone's right and I am cold-hearted.  I'm just numb, like my bones are brittle and chalky, ready to crumble into dust and fly away.  I wish I could fly away.     

I make sure that Charlie's asleep before getting up and heading for the bathroom.   There I find my razor.  I can't cry; boys don't cry.  Instead, I let my arms cry for me.  They cry tears of blood. 

~*~

a/n: that's all for now but the ideas are turning in my head and I can't wait to write everything down.  Please R&R on your way out~ 

  


	2. Boys Don't Cry

_Disclaimer_: (This one will be standing so I won't have to type it out each time) All things Mighty Ducks related belongs to Disney. Oh, and the song obviously belongs to Nirvana.

_Author's Notes_: thanks to my readers, fellow Adam angst lovers…Unfortunately Adam is going to go through a lot but don't worry, he'll get his happiness too…eventually…Sorry to all Dean Portman fans but come on, every fic has to have a villain and in this case…yeah…individual notes are at the bottom of the chapter

**Radio Song**

**Chapter Two**

Adams POV 

I could tell that even though Charlie tried to be upbeat, he couldn't take his mind off of what was brewing up at home. No matter what I did or what I said it only got a slight grin from Charlie but his eyes stayed the same: troubled and clouded. I couldn't take it anymore; it was obvious nothing I'd say would make him feel better.

"I don't want to, you know, be nosy but if you're feeling that bad Charlie, maybe you should head home for the rest of the weekend and try to work something out."

It sounded a lot harsher than it did in my head. I nearly patted him on the shoulder reassuringly but stopped myself. I'm not much of a touchy-feely kind of person. Touching other people when it isn't absolutely necessary kind of creeps me out.

"You know maybe you're right." Charlie had his hands in his pockets and was hunched over, pathetically kicking at the rocks on the sidewalk. It was a new low even between the two of us.

"I'd hate to see you like this all tomorrow too."

"Sure, just trying to get rid of me are you?" Charlie teased, his eyes finally lighting up like they usually do.

"No of course not," I protested a little too much. I blushed, wishing I didn't do that so often. It was the only thing that gave away my emotions to show to the outside world. "I just don't want to see you stressed."

"You're too kind Banksie," he said, and hooked his arm around my neck. I couldn't help smiling and he left it there like that for the rest of the way.

Charlie's POV 

After a lot of Adam's insisting to go home, I gave in and pulled out my duffel bag, which was not in much use since hockey season ended. I couldn't keep the grin off my face as I packed even though I knew that I would be heading towards hell back at home. I knew that a less good of a friend would have shoved bad jokes and cheesy movies down my throat all weekend to distract me but Adam was better than that.

"You really need all those things? You're only going to be gone for what? Two days, one night," Adam commented from his spotless side of the room. My room, however, looked like a tornado just passed by.

"Thank god Monday's a holiday," I commented as I threw in my deodorant. I was down to the last bits of it, which reminded me I had to pick some more up on the way home.

"What are you doing," I demanded. When I looked up I caught Adam's eye wandering back to his laptop, probably to finish that damn paper. To hell with English papers; I knew I wasn't going to do mine until the morning it was due.

"I just…" his voice fell away with guilt. After being his friend for a while, I found out that Adam was not quite as unmovable as everyone first thought. He was pretty sensitive behind that stony mask and a lot of times he got offended or affected more than I thought.

"Whoa there Adam," I said. I rarely used his first name so his eyes finally met mine when he heard it. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad or anything."

"I know, I know," he said hastily. After a moment, he got up and walked over to my bed and rummaged around until he came up with a nasty old shirt.

"I think you might need this," he said, with a wry smile. It was a wrinkled Polo shirt, exactly the kind that I wouldn't wear but strangely did. It somehow turned into our lucky shirt after one time when I was running late I had put it on and ran to a math final and aced it. Right afterwards, Adam forgot to bring clothes for practice and wore the shirt instead and it had been one of the only times Orion had loudly complimented a player. We dubbed it a sacred relic and wore it only when we absolutely needed to and never washed it. Gross, I know, but it was nice, like a grown boy's security blanket.

I took the soft shirt in my hands and held it for a minute. I liked the way it smelled. Surprisingly it didn't smell half as bad as it looked. It was a mixture of our scents and I loved to pick apart the smells and find Adam deeply embedded in the shirt. It was weird but comforting. Without thinking I brought the shirt to my nose and inhaled deeply. I could smell Adam's soap mingling with my Old Spice deodorant. There, by the collar, the smell of Adam won out and I breathed in a couple more times.

"What? It doesn't smell that bad does it?" Adam teased.

"No, but the fabric might disintegrate soon," I said.

"Then we better not wash it." I laughed and was about to put it in the bag when I changed my mind. I took off my shirt and put the other one on. Adam turned away when I did.

"Come on, Banksie, don't be so prude," I joked. Just to see him blush I paraded around without a shirt for a couple more minutes before putting on the yellow Polo one. He was so cute when he blushed; no wait, not cute, funny. Cute in an endearing way, like a little kid who still sucks his thumb even though he's in second grade. Wait, not cute…oh hell, whatever, you know what I mean.

"I'm not prude," he protested.

"Yeah right, when was the last time you kissed a girl? Mommy doesn't count Banks." When he remained adamantly silent, I knew the answer. I felt kind of bad though, I didn't want to leave with Adam annoyed at me.

"It's okay Banksie, I've never kissed someone for real either," I said. He snorted.

"What are you talking about? I saw that with you and Linda."

"Hell no, gross." I made a horrible face just to show him I was serious. "You know that was a spur of the moment. And I said, "real kiss." I didn't feel anything, it was more like a nudge or a hug or something."

"Yeah right."

"Nah, I'm serious, Banks. We don't need girls. All I hear from other guys is how much of a pain they are, how much attention they demand. We don't need them, all we need is each other right?" I saw Adam's eyes light up and a smile cross his face. It made me want to jump up and down out of happiness too, just to see the guy smile.

"You're going to miss your bus," he commented. I groaned and got off the bed. I slung the bag over my back.

"Come back in one piece," Adam advised.

"Haha you are so hilarious," I said sarcastically. But I couldn't help pulling Banks into a quick hug as I passed by him. That hug made it totally worth going home to a fiercely savage mom and her drunk boyfriend.

As I left, I heard Banks call behind me quietly, "I'll miss you." For some reason it didn't make my roll my eyes or think the guy was turning pretty sappy for me leaving only for a couple of days. Wait, I think I know the reason. It's because I'll miss him too.

Adam's POV 

After watching Charlie's retreated head of curly hair, I laid down on the bed, wondering how I was going to spend the next couple of days without him. Probably homework; lame I know but what else am I supposed to do?

I opened up the windows. I hate stuffy rooms. I love the way the room smells after the windows are open all day but Charlie usually complains about how it's too cold. I would tell anyone else to just buck up and wear mittens but I didn't really want my best friend to be uncomfortable so now our room smelled decidedly like a garbage can.

Sitting back down, I sighed and opened up the laptop. The screen turned on with the image of my paper staring back at me. I started to type slowly, keeping an eye on the clock. Every minute would bring me closer to Charlie, no wait. I meant an end to boredom. Yeah.

Fulton's POV 

Jesus, I don't think I've ever been so nervous before. Not in any hockey game or any fights, never. I'm at the point where I'm jiggling my foot up and down like how those girls do. Except not as well. Maybe it's a practiced thing.

"Will you just chill?" Portman says. He's throwing a ball up towards the ceiling then catching it, lounging on his bed. Little did he know that _he_ was my problem. Well no, not my problem, but the reason why I was being such a freak.

Especially over the summer I realized that I had never been into girls. Maybe it was because they were so annoying to me. Everything to them was like a game, especially flirting. You say something funny, they giggle and flick their hair, and then you go make out. Sometimes it works out better than other times. But all in all it was the same.

But with Portman it was different every time. There was none of this giggling crap or the feeling that this was how it was supposed to be, all premeditated. Portman was one hundred percent spontaneous in everything and that was the beginning of everything. At the party after winning against the Varsity a couple months ago he had wanted to play spin the bottle, spontaneously of course, and he ended up on me, much to everyone else's joy since Portman had been loudly bragging that he'd definitely get Julie. They never really thought we'd go through with it, the kiss I mean, since we're such "manly men" and all.

I personally was at first grossed out. Come on, I can barely stand the idea of kissing a hot girl nonetheless my best friend who happens to be a _guy_. But when he did, it was different from anything else. I felt hot and cold at the same time and I would describe it more but it would end up sounding like a trashy romance novel full of clichés. To sum it up, I'd just say that it was the single best moment in my life.

After that I started to investigate my feelings a little more closely. More and more, girls were less interesting to me, no, even more than that. They started to gross me out. Like at a dance, Portman had hooked up with a girl and tried to get me with her friend and she started dancing all close to me like it was supposed to turn me on. Let me tell you, nothing in the world could have turned me off faster. She was all soft and limp like…I dunno, mashed potatoes or something. It was sick. I wanted nothing to do with her.

Funny how no one seemed to ever suspect that I was gay. Maybe it was because I was so damn "tough" as they thought, a bash brother, the epitome of a homophobic macho guy who thinks he's so much better than some "queer." God, the word homophobic doesn't do the bastards that are any justice. Feeding their penis to a wood chipper…now _that_ would be justice. What right do they have to think that they're better just because they happen to like some slut?

The only good thing about that was that I never got any more shit than I was supposed to. Already kids were on my case about being a cheater, a druggie, a gang member, and the only thing I needed on top of that was a reputation that would probably get the Varsity team to come and personally castrate me.

Topics such as homosexuality are pretty much taboo here at good old Eden Hall. The only things I hear are underground rumors such as Charlie and Adam. The only thing I have to say is, who cares? So what if they're secretly madly in love? I'd say it would be pretty cute even though predictable. Come on, team captain and star player? But they're both good boys, they'd fit each other better than any girl who just wants to be pampered and showered with presents. I swear, I find myself _hoping_ that they really _are_ in love. It'd kill me to see a smart guy like Charlie or Adam fall head over heels for some girl only to be used and have their heart brutally stomped all over.

Shit, before I get any more off-topic…the point of all of this is that I think I might really like Portman, maybe even love. But I don't know about that last part, love is too tricky and way to sticky of a word to just throw around like that. If undying devotion and the whole "I'll give my life for yours" is love then so be it. I am in love with Dean Portman. And I am going to tell him.

It'd basically kill me to not say anything. I feel like I'm bursting on the inside. I'd go psycho if I didn't say _something_.

"Dean?" Now _that_ made Portman look at me, almost worried. We never called each other by our first names.

"Yeah what is it?" I was dismayed to see him pull out a bottle and start taking swigs from it. I didn't want him to be totally trashed when I confessed possibly the biggest secret I ever had and ever would have.

"Could you stop drinking for a second," I said. "I just want you to be sober when you hear this." I was worrying Portman way more than I should. He looked at me like I might have cancer or something.

"It's just…have you ever felt like maybe you liked someone more than a friend?" I said lamely. Portman frowned.

"Don't be gay, Fulton." I flinched at the word. "Just spit it out, you know I hate bullshitting."

"Okay, fine." I was about to say it when the words were caught in my throat. It was so much more difficult to say than I could ever imagine. "Dean I think I like you, more than a friend. As a boyfriend. Love even." Silence. It dragged on for what seemed like eternity. Oh god couldn't he just say something? Portman just stared at me.

"Shit," he finally said, and started to drink very rapidly from the bottle until it was empty. He looked around until he found another and started to drink that too.

"No Dean, come on, don't drink so much," I pleaded. He gets violent when he drinks.

"No fucking way you sick queer," he said, voice slightly slurring. I could tell he was well on his way to being drunk. I reached for him and he punched me so hard in the jaw that I felt the blood starting to fill my mouth. I spit it out. But it was his words that hurt more.

"Don't you touch me," he warned. "Don't get near me. Jesus Christ, why didn't you tell me you were gay? I would have never roomed with you if I knew you had just wanted to _fuck_."

"No, hold on a minute," I said, getting equally annoyed. "Don't you ever fucking say that's all I wanted or that's what I want. You know that's not true."

"What am I supposed to think?" Portman howled, throwing his hands up in the air.

"How does me being gay affect us in any way?" I said.

"It changes everything. Holy shit, I can't even look at you." With that, Portman was out the door, throwing his second empty bottle on the ground behind him. It rolled by my feet. I looked hard at the bottle but the only thing I could see was my reflection with blood dripping from the side of my mouth.

Entry from Adam's Journal 

How is it that everything I say ends up sounding like I'm madly in love with Charlie? Because that's not the case. I mean I love him like a brother definitely and as a friend. But not like Valentine-esque hearts and passion and martini olives love. Just platonic, friendly love.

It's just that he's so smart. He's cocky, everyone knows that, but not in an annoying way. It's just that he knows what he's good at and he's not afraid to show it off. And underneath that layer he's probably the nicest person in the world. He's got the biggest heart. All he ever wanted to do was to help people. He never holds grudges or anything. Like when he had gone out with Linda and she dumped him after a week maybe, she had gotten sick with a pretty bad throat ache, he got hot tea sent to her room as well as a funny get well soon card.

I guess I just want to make sure nothing will come between us. Wait, I did it again. I meant to say that I just want to make sure that nothing will come between our friendship. Yeah. The only thing that's even weirder than all these tendencies that slip and make me sound as though I'm in absolute love with Charlie…is that he seems to be acting the same way.

Portman was running as fast as his legs could carry him. What the hell did Fulton think he was doing just dropping something like that on him? Like that? Love? Hell with that, he, Dean Portman, was not gay.

Maybe he could room with Charlie or something. He had the room nearest to his and Fulton's. His socked feet slipped on the ground and finally he skidded to a stop before Charlie's door. No way could he spend the night with Fulton now that it was revealed that he liked him way more than just as a friend.

Portman knocked frantically. Oh crap, what if Fulton came out looking for him? To plead with him and grab his hand and take him to his happy gay land where they can fuck and be happy together. Sick. That was just plain sick. Portman knocked again, possibly even louder. What the hell? Was Charlie DEAF?

Finally, the door opened but it wasn't Charlie. A sleepy looking Adam was there, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked pretty cute with his hair messed up and dressed in thankfully no preppy clothes. Wait, hold on a minute. See? Even spending _time_ with a queer turned him into one! He was not like that; he was not _abnormal _like Fulton. Besides, he was probably pretty trashed. Whatever judgments he made now counted for nothing.

"Where's Charlie," Portman said. Charlie would understand. He would know that it was wrong for Fulton to have said anything to him. He would probably even switch rooms. Charlie would hold them all together like he always did.

"Charlie's-" Adam broke off into a yawn. "Charlie went home." Adam frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"Listen, could I spend the night here? I really need to." Adam's frown deepened but it wasn't one of annoyance.

"Okay sure, are you sure you're okay though?"

"I'll be fine if I spend the night here," Portman growled, a little harsher than he should have considering that Adam had become his savior for tonight. Considering this, Portman almost took his words back but he saw that Adam was obedient and opened the door further so that he could come in. He had started to sprawl over Charlie's bed when Adam bit his lip. Portman reminded himself to tell Adam not to do that; it made him seem a lot girlier than a hockey star should.

"Maybe you should sleep on my bed," Adam said, hurriedly. "Because I don't mind if you make a mess, I have to wash everything tomorrow anyway." Portman frowned but didn't argue.

"You're such a neat freak," he muttered. Adam carefully piled all his books on his laptop and moved over to Charlie's bed. Adam scowled as he passed Portman. Clearly the other boy had been drinking and that made him nervous. _Don't be so prude_. Charlie's words echoed in his mind and Adam made himself concentrate fully on his paper.

Portman poked around until he found their c.d. player and stuck in a c.d. Minutes later, Nirvana was playing so loud Adam swore his teeth were rattling. He had heard the song before and found the lyrics disturbing then...but they were nothing compared to the discomfort Adam felt now. Portman started to sing along softly, "Rape me, rape me, my friend..."

"Couldn't you turn that down a little bit?" he asked, a little weakly. Portman growled but obeyed.

"You're such a girl, Banks," Portman grumbled, with none of the jokiness that Charlie had said the same words with.

Adam tried to ignore the lyrics that seemed to be boring into his mind. Finally, he ended up plugging his ears and cranking out the paper. By the time he was finished, it was about two in the morning and Portman was asleep (or passed out, is there really a difference at this point?) on his bed.

With a sigh, Adam unplugged his laptop and put it on the floor. He wished that it were Charlie asleep on the other bed, not Portman. Adam was never big on sleep; he had trouble falling asleep usually. Nothing, not counting sheep, cups of warm milk, ever worked.

Adam wasn't sure how long he was lying there, trying to fall asleep, when he heard movement to his right, where Portman was. Except not anymore. Portman was looming before him like a nightmare demon that came in through windows to slit innocent, sleeping peoples' throats.

"Portman? What are you doing? It's late," Adam whispered. Portman reached over and covered Adam's mouth, silencing him. He carefully moved on top of the smaller boy and try as he might, Adam couldn't get Portman off him. He finally worked his mouth from under Portman's hand.

"Shit, Portman, you drank too much," he said, trying to sound as commanding as possible. "Get off right now." The other boy didn't listen..

"I'm serious, get off me right now Portman," Adam said. This time it wasn't Portman's hand that covered his mouth but the other boy's lips. Shocked, Adam laid there for a minute, stunned. Then his sense kicked in. He tried to kick him off but Portman was too strong and in minutes the other boy's hands were traveling up and under his shirt.

The gravity of the situation seemed to hit Adam as he finally, with strength he didn't know he had, somehow worked his hand free and punched Portman in the nose and threw the boy onto the floor.

"You're such a fucker," Portman muttered, obviously still drunk and oblivious to what he was doing and to whom. Adam tossed Portman a small hand cloth.

"Don't choke," he said, coldly. Portman used it to soak up the blood that was falling from his nose. Portman fell back on his bed and soon was asleep, snoring again. Adam, however, didn't escape so easily. He was shaking as he lowered himself back onto Charlie's bed, in his mind replaying what had happened. At the time he had been so calm but now he was panicking. He was so scared. What if Portman tried again?

He felt around the floor until he came up with a small knife that Charlie used to carry around for protection. Since then, Charlie had been feeling relaxed enough to go around without it but it slightly worried Adam that Charlie hadn't taken it home. He took it in his hand and clutched it, ready to only use it when it was absolutely necessary. But Portman just grunted in his sleep and turned around, his back to Adam.

Adam shivered. He buried his face in Charlie's pillow, trying to find him in the cloths. He inhaled his best friend. Adam was shaking so hard but he didn't cry. It didn't matter that Adam had stopped Portman before he really tried something. He wasn't strong enough to stop Portman from the beginning. And he knew that that night he was raped of at least one thing: his innocence.

a/n: so how will Adam deal with all of this? And what's happening at Charlie's house? Thanks for reading, please R&R on your way out!

Adam- I was going to e-mail you back with other stuff, I think comments or something that had to do with what you said, but thought that might be kind of weird. Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed the first part of the story; I hope you don't mind slash because that's what a lot of this story will be.

Rachel- I found it kind of weird that the Ducks seemed so tight you know? Like there were this group of kids I knew and we were really good friends because we were all in this competition thing together as a team but once that ended so did our friendships. So that's kind of where I thought the Ducks would fall apart without hockey. Anyway, thanks for liking it; there will be a lot more angst!

Crazy4nc128- I love your Adam/Charlie stories! They were the first ones I read when I started reading MD fics and they were so perfect. I agree that there has to be way more Adam angst slash stories which is why I started writing my own, because I was in major withdrawal…anyway, thanks for reading, I'm glad you're enjoying it!


	3. Wine Colored Grass

_Disclaimer_: note my standing disclaimer as well as "wine colored grass" is a song title from Evan Dando (a small thing but still…)

_Author's Notes:_ another shout-out to all my fellow Adam angst/slash lovers out there!  Whew, I say this has been a humbling experience but I'm quite proud of myself for not being like a lot of people out there and just pout that you don't get any reviews.  Come on, I'm writing this because (as weird as it is!) I love seeing my favorite ducky get tortured (and comforted of course by Charlie) not to see if I can pull in a popularity contest.  Sorry if that sounded rant-y and/or basically useless; just been bothering me b/c I read a bunch of fics today where it's all "if you don't review then I won't write anymore!" If no one's reviewing that usually means no one's reading so if you don't write anymore then no one will really care.  Come on now, I know you all are smart, just use them brains that are in there somewhere!

_Anyway_, here's the story~

**~*Radio Song*~**

**~*Chapter Two*~**

  Charlie's POV  

I got off the bus onto the dirty sidewalk and glumly kicked an empty soda can out of my way.  I wished maybe Adam had come with me; but I wasn't sure if he was ready to see where I came from.  Sure he had an idea but it's one thing to hear about it and another to actually go.  Besides, I didn't want him to go all pity-mode on me.  

  
I stopped by the drugstore and picked up a new stick of deodorant as well as a package of licorice for Adam.  He likes to drink soda through it like a straw, which is kind of gross because the licorice ends up dissolving but it's fun to see him get excited about something as small as candy so I don't mind spending an extra dollar on it.   

"Home sweet home," I muttered.  I smoothed down the front of my shirt for luck.  I stepped onto the sagging porch, wishing this weekend were already over with.  How did Adam ever convince me to come back here?  With a sigh, I pushed the door open.

"Mom?  I'm home," I called.  The house seemed pretty empty but who knows; last time my mom had been passed out on the living room floor.  That incident running through my head, I checked through the entire house.  Mom wasn't home.  I frowned.  Where could she be?  It was still kind of early; maybe she was still working. 

I tried calling the diner.  The person that answered just told me my mom left.  Finally, the front door opened but it wasn't my mom that walked through.  It was the latest installment of her boyfriends.  This one was of the scowling, dark types with a twelve o' clock shadow pretty much all over his face.  He wears that same jean jacket that holds a musty combination of alcohol and sweat.  

"Where's my mom," I said suspiciously.  He looked at me and his look of disgust deepened. 

"What you doing here?" David demanded.  He was headed for the refrigerator and just as how I expected, he took out a can of beer.  

"I live here," I said. 

"Yeah?  Well so do I now and when I'm here, I make the rules."  Charlie narrowed his eyes.  What was his problem?  He barely said two words and here was this David character biting off his head.  Usually I'm a pretty easy-going guy so I would let this go but for some reason it just really pissed me off today.

"You know what?  I don't think you do.  I've lived here longer and god knows I've known my mom longer so I think you're full of shit.  You know what else I think?  I think you don't deserve my mom at all.  And I want to know where the hell my mom is." 

David just kept drinking and glaring at me with his small, bloodshot eyes.

"You think you're all tough don't you, what?  You gonna find a girl to beat up then leave like your dad did?  You're just like your dad." 

"Fuck you, you don't know my dad and you sure as hell don't know my mom." 

"Listen kid, I told you, when I live here my word goes and I want you to get the hell out of my house."  
  
"Not until you fucking tell me where my mom is!" 

"Charlie?"  We both jumped as the front door opened and Charlie's mom stepped into the kitchen, looking at me, her child, confused.

"What are you doing home," she finally said.  I tried so hard not to cry.  I shouldn't be so emotional.

"I'm glad to see you too," I finally said.  My voice cracked, dammit, and now they have a clear entryway to how vulnerable I am.  

"Its just…honey you should tell me beforehand when you're coming home.  Don't you…don't you have homework left to do?" she said, looking frantically from me to David.  

Suddenly, it started to click.  She wanted to…shit I don't even want to think about it.  The point was she wasn't quite ready to give up this romantic weekend with David and it sure as hell wouldn't be very romantic with her kid tagging along.  It hurt a lot that she was even thinking about sending me back.  The whole "it's us against the world" attitude we had when I was younger had just been shot to hell.  Now it was "let's see how fast we can get rid of the kid."  No, it was "let's see how fast I can _replace_ my kid."  My mom suddenly didn't need me and she didn't _want_ me around.  She had David and that's all she needed.  

"Sorry Mom," I finally said, when I found my voice.  "I'm sorry that I thought that you might have been happy to see me.  I'm sorry that you're stuck with me all weekend.  You know what?  Just forget it, I hate you Mom."  

My mom just looked a little startled but David looked pissed.

  
"Don't you dare talk to your mother that way," he hissed. 

"No, don't you tell me how I can talk to my own mom!"  I screamed.  I turned my look back at my mom who was now starting to cry openly.  "All these years Mom, I thought we had each other and that was enough for you.  Then suddenly you have more boyfriends over than a prostitute.  God, I kept trying to convince myself that you didn't hate me as much as you hate Dad but obviously I was wrong.  You think we're the same don't you?  You see him when you look at me don't you?  Don't you!" 

"Charlie, don't you want me to be happy?" 

"Like hell you're happy and you'll never BE happy until you admit to yourself that Dad left us.  You have to stop lying to yourself." 

"That's enough," David said, in the most commanding voice he could, seeing as how he was so damn drunk.  Mom looked over at him so gratefully like she was so _happy_ to have a real man that was able to handle a situation like this so well.     

"You're just like your old man," he slurred.  Well so much for handling the situation.  "You should do your mom a favor and just get out of her life."  I started to walk away when I snapped.  I turned around and punched David hard in the jaw.  He staggered back a few steps and my mom screamed.  Before I knew it, David had punched me in the stomach.

"You think you're smart pulling something like that?  I can kill you!"  He punched me several more times in the stomach and I staggered to the ground, spitting out blood.  

"Fuck all of you," I said.  It hurt to breathe.  Somehow I got my duffel bag over my shoulder and staggered out the door.  I waited out there on the porch for a few minutes but neither my mom nor David came out.  Not that I was expecting them to or anything.

I didn't know where I was going.  Even though I've lived here all my life, nausea was filling me and covering me like a damp carpet.  I could feel cold sweat forming on my upper lip.  Somewhere in all the mess of things, between the screaming that was echoing in my mind to the phantom hands of David punching me in the stomach, I could see Adam.  He'd be worried if I just stayed out here like this.  A bus stop.  I'll find a bus stop and take the next one back up to Eden Hall.  I don't want to worry Adam.

I kept walking, stumbling, then finally falling to my knees.  They banged on the pavement and I fell over onto grass and concrete.  I grabbed my stomach and I started to gag.  Turning over, I threw up all over the grass.  Over and over again until my stomach was empty and my mind was heavy and dizzy with dehydration.  I started to throw up blood and I coughed and rolled over, trying to get as far away from the mess I had made as possible.  

"Are you happy Mom?" I said.  The wind picked up my words.  "That I'm fucking throwing up like a drug addict on the streets like Dad?  Proud of me, aren't you?"  I rolled over and finally the world started to turn black.  The last thing I saw was Adam, his eyebrows creased in concern.  I tried to tell him I was okay but he disappeared and so did I.  

~*~

 _Adam's POV_

I tried to tuck the blankets more closely around me but it was still freezing.  I hadn't slept all night and hadn't once taken my eyes off of Portman's sleeping form.  There were bloodstains all over the blankets and some on the carpet.  The washcloth had been discarded by the foot of the bed. 

I thought when the sun rose and the day grew lighter, what happened would fade away into nothing but a nightmare and I would realize that that could never happen.  That nothing happened last night and it was all just a really bad dream.  But as the day lightened, I could only see stark reality all around me and everything in my room was just a reminder of what had happened.  The sky outside was bleak and gray. 

Portman had barely moved all night but finally he started to stir.             

"Holy shit, my head hurts so fucking bad," he finally croaked.  I stayed silent, too terrified to say anything.

"What the hell am I doing here?" he said, looking around.  "Banks?"  Was it possible that he had no idea what had happened?  I swallowed; my mouth was paper dry.

"You…you had a fight with Fulton or something," I finally said.  "You wanted to spend the night here because Charlie's gone home for the weekend."  Portman frowned but nodded.

"Oh, sorry, I guess I drank too much."  I rummaged around for a water bottle.  

"Water?" I offered.  He took it gratefully and drank down the whole thing.  His eyes rested on the bloody cloth on the ground.  

"What the hell…" 

"You got a bloody nose."  My voice was shaking so hard I was surprised Portman hadn't said anything.  

"A bloody nose?"  He felt his nose and shifted it back and forth.  "Actually it is kind of sore.  Must have gotten into a fight that I don't remember or something."  I nodded lamely.  Portman got out of bed and pulled on a couple of things lying around.  I couldn't look at him as he put on some sweats over his boxers and a sweatshirt.  

"Kind of cold in here isn't it?" Portman said as he closed the open window.  I felt sick.  I could hear my heart inside my chest and my breathing became harder.  I felt like walls were closing in around me.  I wanted Portman out away from me. 

"Hey, thanks for letting me crash here," he said.  He reached out to pat me on the shoulder but I shrunk away.  Underneath the covers I gripped the knife tighter.  Portman just liked mildly puzzled but started for the door.

"Alright, see you around Banks."  He was out the door.  I started to shake and I could barely reach the garbage can in time as I threw up.

"I'm sorry."  I leaned against the wall, too tired to stand on my own.  "I'm sorry I'm so weak.  I'm sorry this had to happen."  I turned around and slammed my fists into the wall, making the bulletin board fall to the floor.  The skin on my fists broke and bled.  

I sank to the ground and my gaze landed on the fallen bulletin board.  It was overflowing with notes and papers thumbtacked on the corkboard in haste.  They were mainly notes passed back and forth between us and a handful of notes that Charlie had received from other people in our classes.  There were also schedules and post-its reminding us of plans or practices.        

I picked up a particular note that was to Charlie, signed Adam.  

            _Hey Charlie_, it started.  _You look like you're actually listening to the lecture.  Listen, I know we have practice late today at 5:00 but we should get to the rink faster like 3:00 and just goof around for awhile.  We haven't had much fun on the ice lately._  

That was true.  Near the end of hockey season, everyone was pretty much sick of each other and there were constant squabbles on the ice.  But never between Charlie and me.

            Anyway, I'll talk to you at lunch.  ~Adam  

I stared at the letter.  The person who wrote that wasn't me.  I tried to remember who that was, who _I_ was.  I could only think of the boy with blonde hair, parted meticulously to the side.  Blue eyes.  I could only think of the stranger I saw when I looked in the mirror.

~*~

  Portman's POV 

I laid in bed with the sickest hangover ever.  The only thing that made me feel even worse than that was what happened.  I tried to pretend like I was sleeping as I ran over what happened in my mind.  What the hell made me do that?  Why Adam?  

I tried not to think of Adam behind me on the other bed.  I tried not to think of Adam looking scared and confused as he tried to escape.  I couldn't stand this silence any longer.  I discreetly checked my watch.  It read 9:21.  I rolled over and faked a yawn.

"Holy shit, my head hurts so fucking bad," I said.  "What the hell am I doing here?"  I looked over at Adam who was awake.  It sickened me to see him lying there with a glazed look over his eyes.

"Banks?"  He seemed to come back to life, if you could call it that.  His eyes focused but they still kept that careful blank look, careful to not reveal anything.  I tried to look oblivious.  I listened to Adam claim that I had a fight with Fulton.  Well of course I did.  I remember everything.  But I just watched Adam with a half interested look, trying to look as though I was hearing everything for the first time.  

I asked him about that washcloth soaked with my blood.  I deserved it.  The ground should be soaked in my blood for what I did.  He looked so small and scared there.  I could tell, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.  I wanted to protect him so bad but fuck; I was the one who hurt him. 

I could tell he wanted me out.  Good, I wanted to go too.  I didn't want to be around him anymore.  He made me feel too guilty, too bad.  He made me want to love him and protect him and kill myself all at the same time.  Fuck, what the hell was wrong with me?  I remembered what I said to Fulton.  It would be just like this shit life to do this to me; turn me gay the minute I scream to my best friend that I'm a homophobe.  Fucking hell I hate this. 

"Hey, thanks for letting me crash here," I said.  I reached out to, I don't know, pat him on the shoulder or ruffle his hair or something.  He moved away from me.  Adam was so scared.  I was shocked for a second but then again, why should I have been?  I should have known he'd be terrified of me, some rapist.  Finally, I said something else and walked out the door.

I waited on the other side for a couple of minutes.  I heard Adam throw up and I wanted to run back in and help the guy out but I was cemented there, listening to everything he did.  

"I'm sorry," I heard him say.  Then I ran.  

~*~

  Charlie's POV 

It took me a several minutes to figure out where I was.  The sky was gray and yellow and it made me sick.  I sat up, groggily to find the grass around me tinted with red.  Wine colored grass.  It was covered in blood; my blood.  I dug around my bag until I came up with a bottle of water that I drank down.  I felt so numb.  For a minute I thought I had died but I knew that afterlife couldn't possibly be this shitty, unless I went to hell for being such a bastard.  I fell back into the grass.  

It was still early; people wouldn't come across this street until at least a couple more hours.  That gave me enough time to get myself together and walk to a bus stop. 

"Hell wouldn't be half as bad as this," I said to myself as I got to my feet.  The world twisted around me then finally righted itself.  "Then again, you wouldn't be in hell, would you Banks?"  I kept walking and kept talking to my best friend.

"You'd probably be in heaven, the highest order of angels plucking those damn harps.  You're so perfect Banks.  But at least I've got you here.  I don't want to lose you to those angels.  You keep my demons away."  

Early risers and joggers looked at me in worry as they passed me.  Passing by a puddle I caught my reflection.  My shirt was stained with blood, my face was gaunt, and I was talking to no one.  I wanted to stop them, the joggers and other passerby; I wanted to shake them ask them if I scared them that much.  They all gave me a wide berth.  Adam wouldn't do that.  

I waited at the bus stop for a couple of hours until the buses finally started to run and got on the first one.  I stopped when I entered the bus and turned around.  I put two fingers to my lips and flung them out to the dismal world.

"Bye Mom.  You got David's hand, long may it wave."  I stumbled onto the empty seats where I collapsed and fainted.  

~*~

  Portman's POV 

I don't know why I did it.  I wish I knew but I had no idea.  I had drunk too much.  Dammit, I was drunk.  It was barely an excuse; hell it wasn't even an excuse.  But I don't know what possessed me.  I just knew that I wanted Adam.       

He eludes me.  Girls are easy.  They giggle, they wear revealing clothes, and you compliment them, on their hair maybe.  They make sense.  You flatter them and they want you back.  Adam's different.  It was because I couldn't have him that I want him. 

I didn't even know about my sudden swinging the other way until last night.  He didn't know but I was watching him before…well before I became a moron.  He was lying there in the moonlight and it had turned his hair silvery.  He was looking up at the ceiling, dreaming about who knows what.  

And then…I don't even want to think about it.  It's making me feel sick.  Fuck this.  I drink some more, to forget and try to rewind and erase what happened.  

~*~

 Letter to Casey from Charlie 

Dear Mom,

You tell me to take responsibilities for my actions.  You tell me that I have to be mature because I'm now the man of the house ever since dad left.  But I don't see how you didn't realize that I'm still a kid.  And being the kid that I am I'm going to blame you for this.  

I was fine with the way we were.  I loved you and you loved me, or so I thought.   Then you can't stop wanting to feel loved.  Obviously I wasn't enough for you, was I?  I don't even know if I'll send this to you.  If I did, if I ever got mad enough to want you to read this, then you'd probably be reading this in the messy kitchen with blood still on the floor.  David would be standing behind you, rubbing your shoulders, telling you that you don't need me.  

Well, Mom, you might not need me.  You and David might not need me in your new life.  You guys might not need this bit of leftover scraps from your old life.  You guys don't want any extra baggage pulling you back.  You want to start over without memories from your old life.  You might not need me but I need you.  When Dad left you were everything, I thought at least we had each other.  But I was wrong.  

If that's the way you want it to be then so be it.  I don't need you anymore either.  I used to love you, maybe I still do, but I'm through trying to give you something you won't return.  Sometimes I thought money was the problem.  I thought maybe if I worked really hard I could earn money with hockey.  So maybe I will.  I'll become rich and famous and maybe then you'd want to call me your son.

I'd pass by home, Mom.  I'd see you and David standing on the porch, waving and ready to take me back.  And I'd turn to my friends; I'd turn to Adam.  I'd tell him, "See that house?  I lived there alone for seventeen years."  It's because of you I'm hurting; mother dearest, I hate you.  

                                                            Your selfish and immature son, Charlie

~*~

 Adam's POV 

I can't feel anything.  I just want to die.  I rest my head on my knees, digging my fingernails into my skin.  I can't bring myself to hate Portman.  He doesn't even remember.  I'm almost angry.  I wish he'd remember.  Then I could scream and yell at him.  Ask him what the hell he was thinking.  Now it's just all in my head.  I don't care anymore.  

The whole day I lie in bed, clutching my wounded arms, wishing the room would stop spinning.  I feel weak.  I was always weak; I've always tried to hide it.  Boys are supposed to be strong.  They're supposed to be able to take care of themselves.  

Have I really changed that much?  Am I that different from the person I was yesterday at this time?  I don't bother changing the bloody sheets.  I didn't know I could hit hard enough to make Portman bleed that much.  Instead, I just bunch them up and toss them in a corner.  The spots on the floor are still visible.  

I try to hide them but I feel like they're boring holes into my brains.  They scream at me, reminding me what happened.  I crawl away into a corner of the room.  They tug at my arms and pull my head back to force me to see the events that occurred that night.  I hide deeper in myself and I'm floating there, in the blackness, lost to the world, until something pulls me back to the surface.  

Someone's knocking on the door.  The sound reaches me slowly and it takes a while to register in my brain.  I would normally ignore it but this time I don't.  Something tells me I shouldn't.  I pull myself out of the dark depths of my mind and I lift my head.  I walk to the door and it takes all my effort to open it.

There stands Charlie, looking as spent as I feel.  We just stand there, staring at each other.  

"Charlie," I breathe.  He sways and falls into my arms and I catch him.  He buries his face into my chest, my nose pressed up against his hair.  This is all we need; this is all we will ever need.  

~*~

a/n: whew, that was kind of long (to me anyway, my chapters are usually annoyingly short…) anyway, please R&R on your way out!

_Denverhockeygirl_- oh wow, you have no idea how surprised I was when you reviewed my story.  I love your "Handbook for the Sellout."  Absolutely love.  So I was really flattered when you reviewed my story, thanks for liking my stuff!

    _Crazy4nc128_- Portman is a very bad boy…I'm ashamed to admit that I would probably jump on Banks too if I had the chance *hangs head in shame* haha...but I wouldn't do it if I knew it'd hurt him so much!  Oh, and like doesn't even begin to describe my love for your stories ^^

_Canadian-hockey-girl_- poor banks, poor Charlie, poor everyone.  Why must I be so sadistic?! 

_Andrea_- I totally agree that Charlie and Adam fit together…somehow it doesn't bother me at all when it's Charlie and Adam unlike when it's Adam and, say, Julie, my teeth start to gnash in jealousy…(btw, your spelling errors weren't bad at all!)

_Gina (anne918)_- I'm a sucker for angst of all kinds…I was originally really obsessed with Legolas angst (Lord of the Rings) and then started on MD and Adam…poor Adam…*heh* 


	4. Thoughts of a Dying Atheist

_Author's Note_: So sorry that this update took so long.  Just that the ending of the third chapter seemed extremely...well I felt like it wrapped up well but I do realize I left a million things un…wrapped up.  Another note, I don't quite remember when I decided to set this story.  Let's just put our duckies in their junior year at Eden Hall, shall we?  Enjoy~

I know you're in this room, I'm sure I heard you sigh 

_Floating in-between where our world collide_

_It scares the hell out of me_

_And the end is all I can see_

_I know the moment's near_

_And there's nothing we can do _

   -Thoughts of a Dying Atheist, Muse

**~*Radio Song*~**

**~*Chapter Four*~**

"Do you feel as shitty as I do?" Charlie finally said, his voice muffled.  He could feel Adam nod.  

"Are you okay?" Adam ventured.  Charlie sighed, feeling the familiar sparks of anger inside of him but he let them go, there was no use in getting all pissed off anymore.

"I'll recover.  I think this shirt has proven itself again."  Adam laughed softly; the sound felt foreign.

"I'm not sure, it hasn't really been a walk in the park."  
  
"But we're still alive and back here, aren't we?"  _Back together_, Charlie's mind added. 

"Back together."  Charlie lifted his head in amazement hearing the words as if Adam had read his mind.  Before he could react, Adam yawned so widely that his jaw cracked.  

"Tired?"

"Let's just say I didn't sleep a lot," Adam said, with a wry smile.  He wanted to fall back onto his bed but he knew he'd smell Portman's faint smell of beer and cologne, and he didn't want that.  He wasn't ready yet.  Charlie sensed something was wrong and he tugged gently on his friend's arm.

"Whattya say we take a nap then deal with everything?"  Adam nodded.  Charlie wasn't his best friend for nothing; Charlie understood him and knew his feelings like no one else did.  Charlie let Adam sleep on his bed with him.  Slightly awkward initially, years of friendship and pure fatigue won over as they fell asleep, unknowingly clasping hands as they raced towards a dreamless sleep.  

~*~

/Charlie's POV/

It was as though suddenly the veil before my eyes slipped off and I finally could put into words, at least words in my head, what was confusing me so much.  Maybe it was the awful stuff that happened or the fact that when I woke up, in the space between Adam and me, our hands laid there on the pillow, clasped as though it was the most natural thing in the world.  All I knew was that I needed to say something to someone.  Naturally, the first person I thought of was Jesse but I couldn't call him.  The same weird feeling, partly sad, partly angry, came over me when I thought about one of my best friends locked up in some rehab center.  

Almost as fast as I thought of Jesse, Guy also appeared in my mind's eye.  Guy would be the best person to tell, if I could ever extract him from Connie.  Then again, I wouldn't mind telling Connie either but I could only handle one person right now.  As much as I didn't want to, I extracted myself from the bed and Adam rolled over to where I was lying and mumbled something incomprehensible.  It made me smile slightly.  Sleeping was probably the only time Adam looked his age.  He shouldn't always be barraged with whatever he worries about.

I took our lucky shirt off and put it at the foot of the bed for him to choose to wear or not when he woke up and left a can of Nesta Iced Tea, his favorite, on the bedside table and left the room.  As I padded down the hall, I realized I wasn't wearing shoes.  I swore under my breath but kept walking.  Guy's room wasn't so far.  I knocked, knowing fully well that this could all end in hell if I had judged Guy wrong.  

"Hey Charlie, you look like you got steamrolled or something."  
  


"You're too kind," I said sarcastically.  "Look, got a minute?"  He opened his door wider and I stepped in.  Guy sat on the bed and I paced back and forth.  Three hours ago I was absolutely exhausted but now I couldn't even sit down.

"Okay, this might freak you out but you have to hear me out," I said, almost pleading.  Guy just sat, patiently waiting for me to say whatever I needed to say and take all the time I needed.  I silently thanked whoever gave Guy his patient genes.  

"Okay, well, I like someone.  A lot.  And I just realized this."  I waited again, stupidly, for Guy to say something like, "Julie?" or "Linda, again?  I thought you were over her."  I really don't give Guy enough credit for how smart he is. 

"I like-" I stopped to catch my breath.  "Banks.  Adam Banks.  Banksie.  Cake-eater."  I stopped rambling.  Suddenly, I found myself considering going, "Ha-ha Guy, just kidding, you should have seen the look on your face."  Just as these words were starting to form on my lips, Guy said, in an exasperated tone of voice, "Of all the people man, Adam Banks.  If you guys weren't best friends I'd say he was out of your league.  It'll be hard to get you guys together."

"Wait, what?"  Not only was Guy taking this way too nonchalantly, he was _offering_ to help hook us up…?  I was started to feel dumb, thinking maybe I blew it out of proportion in my mind.  Did it matter at all to Guy that I just found out I was gay, or at least bi?  I asked him this.

"Spazway, calm down.  I think you like who you like regardless of race.  There's really no such thing as sexuality."  I liked that answer.

"You were always the smart one."

"Well, yeah," he said, with a smirk.  "Banks, eh?  Well I won't say I didn't see it coming."  
  
"Don't sound so smug," I said, slightly wounded at how wrong and _stupid_ I was.  "And what do you mean he would be out of my league?"  Guy laughed slightly.

"I was just kidding Charlie.  Well actually maybe not.  He was voted top eligible freshman bachelor.  Even junior girls are looking his way."  
  
"Well, they shouldn't," I muttered.  

"Don't worry, Charlie, you were number two."  I brightened considerably.

"Now," Guy said, all business.  "Let's figure out a way to fix this into a happy ending."  I sat down, finally, to hear Guy's "strategies."  I pushed away the face of Casey, crying slightly, or the pissed off look on David's face.  The familiar anger started fizzing at the bottom of my stomach but I concentrated fully on Adam.  He was worth it; they weren't. 

~*~

/Adam's POV/

When I woke up, Charlie wasn't there but Portman was.  I couldn't stop my heart from speeding as I started to shake beneath the blankets.  He was just sitting on my bed, watching me sleep, I guess.  When I finally brought moisture to my mouth, I swallowed hard and found my voice.

"What are you doing here."  There, I didn't sound so scared.  But I was shaking so hard.  I think Portman could see.  

"Adam, I just…you're acting kind of weird.  This morning and stuff and I knocked before but you wouldn't answer.  You haven't been out of this room all day…" His voice trailed off.  I thought hard but couldn't remember answering the door for anyone but Charlie.  All I remembered was holding my head, feeling blood rush in my body, rushing out of me, making roses down my arms.  

"I'm fine Portman, I just don't want company right now." 

"Charlie came back.  You don't mind him."  Was my mind playing tricks or was that bitterness in his voice?  What was his problem suddenly?  We barely knew each other, well up until yesterday night I guess but I couldn't think about that right now. 

"I'd just appreciate it if I could have my alone time," I said.  When I get mad, I start biting my words.  

"If anything happened…last night, just tell me," Portman whispered, pleading.  I could barely stand to look at him anymore.

"Just get out."  When he hesitated, I almost screamed.  But he got up and took what seemed like an eternity to walk out of the room.  If anything happened?  No Portman dear, we just gossiped a little bit, told each other our life's dreams and went to sleep.  My mind cruelly replays what happened last night, Portman's hot breath, his weight crushing my hips and shoulders, his leering face.  My stomach rolls and I barely reach the bathroom in time before I throw up and empty the nothing I have in my stomach.

~*~

/Portman's POV/

I just have to break something, anything, everything.  I'm yelling and screaming, tearing down the hallways, pounding my fists on the walls.  I rake my knuckles along the rough walls until blood streaks the hallways. 

I'm going at a wall furiously, pounding again and again, ignoring the building pain in my muscles when I realize Fulton standing next to me, looking at me, regarding me silently.

"What did you do," he finally said quietly.

"Nothing," I spat, and stuck the wall again.  I wanted the whole building to fall down and crush my bones into a chalky dust.  

"Like hell Portman, I know you.  When you drink you hurt people."  He pulled up his sleeve and I winced at the old scars and bruises of when I was drunk and I'd hit him and he'd just let me.  Because he loved me, I realize.

"And this time, it wasn't me.  Who was it Portman, who and what did you do."  His voice is so cold.

"Banks.  It was Banks."  I can almost feel Fulton calculating it. 

"How bad."

"Bad."  I don't have to look at Fulton to know he's glaring at me. 

"You should have just beaten me up.  I can handle it."  
  


"I didn't beat him, Fulton, it was worse."     

"Don't tell me because if you did I wouldn't know how to kill you.  I know what happened."  I don't know how he knew but it must have been obvious from the way I was acting. 

"And to think you called me all those names." He smiled but it was the cruelest, coldest smile I had ever seen.  That made me angry again.

"Don't say that.  I'm nothing like you."  I'm running again, running and screaming, tearing and breaking my hands until they're a bloody mess.  I want run back to tell Adam I'm sorry and I know everything that happened but my tongue feels severed.

~*~

/Adam's POV/   

I didn't want to tell Charlie about what happened with Portman yet but I did need to tell someone.  I bit on my thumb thoughtfully and reached for the phone and pulled the lucky shirt that Charlie left onto my lap.  Cradling the soft fabric, I punched in the number for Larson.  

Larson was probably my longest friend, since we were on the Hawks team together.  Who would have thought that he would turn out to be the kind of person he was?  I thought he was like everyone else, turning his back on me the second I put on that Ducks jersey.  He showed up at the hospital the night of the Pee Wee Championship games, pale faced and worried, standing next to Charlie, Jesse, and Bombay.  While I was in the hospital, I also found out that Larson went and beat up McGill pretty bad.  McGill, humiliated, ended up quitting hockey.  Larson went on to lead the Hawks to more championships.  

"Hello?" I recognized Larson's voice.  

"Hey."  

"_Hey_, how's my favorite cake-eater?" He sounded pleased to hear me. 

"Shut the fuck up," I said, smiling.  "You're no more 'cake-eater' than me."  

"What's up, you sound tired."  

"I…I am.  It's been a long night.  I feel like I died.  Like I'm dead."  I could almost hear the click of his eyebrows as they rose in worry.

"Adam, what's wrong?"  His panic seemed to increase with my silence.  I didn't mean to agonize him; I just couldn't _say_.  Not right at this moment anyway.

"Please Adam, tell me."  

"Portman," I finally said, softly.  "It was Portman."  

"Adam you have to tell me everything.  Don't make me assume the worst." 

"I don't have to."  A heavy sigh escaped my lips.  "It happened."  

  
"You're lying in the hospital deflowered with truncated limbs?" he said.  That initiated a small laugh from me.

"Okay, I guess you're right, it could have been worse.  But he tried."  Larson was quiet for a minute then said, "Which one?"  I bit my lip.    
  


"The first."  Larson sucked in his breath sharply on the other side of the phone.  

"That fuckingsonofabitchbastard I'm gonna kill him," he said.

"Larson, calm down.  He doesn't even remember it."

"What?"

"He was drunk.  He didn't know what he was doing."  
  
"AND THAT'S AN EXCUSE?" he roared.  

"Larson!  Really, it's okay." I could tell he was contemplating on whether or not he should tell me the truth and that it's not okay or if he should go along with me.  He avoided it all together.

"How are you then."  
  
"Hanging in there I guess." 

"You don't sound too good."  
  
"I don't feel too good."  After a minute of hesitation, I said, "I wish you were here."

"I wish I was there.  So I could kill Portman." 

"I don't need saving," I reminded him.  He was a lot like Charlie.  They were headstrong, determined, confident, and had the tendency to baby me a lot.

"I know you don't, Adam, but I do know that you're too nice to actually go and beat the living hell out of Portman."  We talked for another couple of hours and Charlie had still not returned.  Finally, I heard Larson's mom calling him.

"Damn, I have to go.  I wish we could keep talking.  I'll call you again."

"Thanks, Larson, for everything you know."  
  


"I know."  After a minute of silence, he said, very fast, "I don't want anything to happen to you Adam.  I…I love you."  Before I could react, he hung up.  I stood there, staring at the phone in disbelief.  Well, I _am_ seventeen, I reasoned.  Maybe everyone had a love confession told to them when they're my age, or earlier.  About time right?  It's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that Larson…wasn't straight?  Maybe…maybe I'm jumping to conclusions.  Guys make a big deal about love in any context anyway.  He probably meant platonically.  I think.   

~*~

/Portman's POV/

 A/n: I sense some confessions coming up! And for those of you who don't remember, Larson was the Hawk who asked Adam if he was okay when he ran into the goal in the first movie.  McGill would be the big beefy jerk who, when Larson asked him what he did, said, "Just my job" or whatever, maybe not completely verbatim.  Just tell me if I got the names wrong or mixed up because that would be embarrassing ^^.  

Oh yeah, and suddenly it seems like the story has taken a fluffy turn, eurgh, but I guess a break is needed from all that suffering. 

Thanks to: **crazy4nc128** (ah, Portman is a bad boy but I do feel sorry for him…I don't know why, he's just so confused!), **anne918** (wow, I feel so honored to have prominent people like you review, it's so flattering ^^), **Andrea** (sorry I made you wait so long!), **denverhockygirl** (thanks for the comments, I messed up with the portman/charlie/adam thing so people should be confused haha. I reviewed your handbook story, still wonderful I might add, I really love that story), **Rinny2** (thanks!), and **banksias-baby99** (sorry this update took forever!)


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